


i can read your future (i can change it ‘round some, too)

by orphan_account



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:41:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26412067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Aw, Logan, that’s so cute!” Patton cooed, face squished between his hands. “You wrote these for Virgil?”“It’s true love, it must be!” Roman cried. “Who knew a dark and stormy Knight would be the thing to melt the icy heart of Sir Nerdsworth!”Uh, no. Actually, this was just a normal, “cool” thing that friends do. Logan and Virgil were friends.Unfortunately, Roman seemed to disagree with these thoughts. “Really, specs? ‘SAGITTARIUS. November 22nd to December 21st. Today might be hard at first, but you always have tomorrow, and if you should need it, you always have a good friend beside you. It will be easier soon. Your lucky color is purple--‘ purple, really? His signature color?” He lightly tapped the newspaper against Logan’s cheek. “Not to come at you or anything, but these are super obvious.”“Does it even matter?” Logan finally snapped. “It’s not like he knows I’m the one writing them or anything! It’s just… feelings." Just hopeless, useless feelings.OR: Virgil likes to read the horoscopes in the university paper. Logan likes to write them. And, whenever Virge is having a bad day, maybe Logan likes to write them a little kinder.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	i can read your future (i can change it ‘round some, too)

* * *

>Search with Google or enter address<

https://www.amuvillagecrier.com/home|

>ENTER<

THE VILLAGE CRIER

_Serving Our Community Since 1991_

[Home] | [About] | [Recent] | [Archive] | [Subscribe] | [Donate] | [Contact]

>ABOUT<

ABOUT OUR FAMILY:

 _The Village Crier_ is one of the two daily papers of Applewood Mount University. With 6 paid part-time students and more than 20 volunteer writers, all under the direction of full-time professional Dr. Martin Carraway, the office (conveniently located in the basement of the Undergraduate Library) is always busy. The _Crier_ covers everything from the more social goings-on of campus life, special events and deals, and even the daily horoscope! 

Email us at amuvillagecrier@amu.edu for any questions, to submit your problems to our advice column, _Logic’s Lowdown_ , or even to drop some juicy tips! If you find something that could be expanded into a full story, you or a pen name of your choice may be credited in our next edition!

* * *

It was to be a dark and stormy day, and not for the first time, Logan wished the office were anywhere but the basement.

The air conditioning was working overtime despite the chill creeping through the walls, there were no windows with which to enjoy the ambiance a rainstorm would bring, and he had a veritable mountain of work to get through. Not that the last one had anything to do with the location, but it felt right to list things in threes.

Logan was aware the _Crier_ did not do any real reporting. No, that was the job of _The Daily Appaloosa,_ where he volunteered as a student writer whenever he had the time. The _Crier,_ by comparison, was little more than a gossip rag, something barely six pages long that was easier for the local Waffle House and campus diners to provide than the full-length _Appaloosa._

Its poor quality meant little to Dr. Martin Carraway, though, whom Logan was intending to use to get his letter of recommendation for grad school in a year. So Logan kept his head up, straightened his tie, and took his job seriously, regardless of how much of a joke he thought the _Crier_ was.

He took his job seriously.

He _took_ his _job_ seriously.

… He took his job _seriously._

Logan repeated this mantra as he rubbed at his temples, praying for either a swift death or a more sensible assignment. Sometimes he needed a bit of a reminder, especially when he combed through the questions submitted to him for the advice column.

“Logic! Help me!” this one started. “There’s this totally cute boy I met at the Library a week ago, and we really hit it off. Then, as Library boys do, he vanished into the night. Not that I minded, it was fun and the bathroom wasn’t as bad as some of the others I’ve done the dirty in.”

Logan made a face. Would he be told off if he edited this question to keep the, ah, _suggestive_ parts out of it?

“Anyway, my best friend wanted me and his boyfriend of a month to be a study group, since we’re all doing STAT together, just in different sections. I was like, cool, whatever, and we met up. And GUESS WHO IT WAS? Library boy! Do I tell my friend? They were together when Boyfriend and I hooked up, but I didn’t know! Will Best Friend hate me? Will Boyfriend kill me? Will I ever be able to party at the Library again? HELP, BABE!” Signed, Scared Shitless in the Shelves.

Logan appreciated the nom de plume. Very clever. He did not appreciate the relationship problems everyone came to him with. Very messy.

“Patton,” he called across the near-empty room. “I got another one.”

“A feelings-y one?” Patton asked, which was rather unnecessary, what else would Logan be asking for help with? 

Patton Macalipay, fellow paid writer at the _Crier_ and half the reason Logan could survive this job. Without Patton’s overabundance of empathy, Logan didn’t doubt he’d have a million complaints by dissatisfied readers about how he ran the _Lowdown_.

Patton set his feet against his desk and shoved off, propelling himself across the room in his rolling chair in a gray and blue blur and crashing to a stop against the wall.

Logan didn’t even flinch. Dr. Carraway, ever absent, wouldn’t care, and Logan stopped worrying about the danger of Patton’s stunts after the first year working together. Silently, he turned his laptop to let Patton read.

Patton gasped, “Oh, the poor dear!” and “Aw, well that’s certainly a sticky situation,” and “I can get feeling scared. It’d be awful to lose a best-friendship,” as if Scared were in the room and Patton were actually holding a conversation with them.

“They should tell the truth as soon as possible, right?” Logan asked once Patton looked finished. “It’s the obvious solution to avoid any miscommunication later on. It doesn’t seem as if Scared is or was interested in Boyfriend outside of their short escapade in the Library, and if Scared didn’t know Boyfriend was, well, _Boyfriend_ , then Best Friend can’t possibly fault them for it.”

“You might have to be a little gentler than that,” Patton winced. “And it may be more complicated. Best Friend might need a delicate touch after such heartbreaking news. And, you know, the Library’s pretty darkly lit! Maybe it didn’t happen that way at all, and it’s a case of mistaken identity!”

Logan drew his hand to his chin. “Well, we have to assume it’s the right guy. The Library can be dim, sure, and generally disgusting, but we don’t have room to think Scared is lying. We simply have to trust the facts as they’re presented to us. Playing ‘what if’ leaves us too vague and uncommitted for published advice.”

Before Patton could resolve his frown and put his thoughts to voice, the office door opened and a new voice cut in. 

“What’s this I’m hearing about the library being disgusting?” asked Virgil. He stepped carefully, dripping on the rug and fresh from the rain outside.

Virgil Storm. Photographer for both the _Appaloosa_ and the _Crier,_ Patton’s boyfriend’s roommate, and the other half of the reason Logan can survive _The Village Crier._

He was wearing his usual black and purple ensemble, but he looked figuratively soaked to the bone. It seemed as if he removed his hoodie to drape it over the items he was carrying, valuing them over not having pneumonia and braving the wet without an umbrella. His hair was a mess.

Logan thought hard about the hairbrush he kept in his desk drawers. He ultimately decided that offering to fix Virgil’s hair was probably crossing some sort of line. 

“Don’t ask,” Virgil grumbled, flicking his head and scattering droplets everywhere. “I didn’t check the weather this morning.”

Logan nodded and focused instead on a more important aspect of Virgil’s appearance: in one hand was his camera bag, and in the other was a drink carrier with three steaming paper cups in it.

“Am I right in hoping one of those is for me?” he asked.

“You know it, Teach.” Virgil carefully deposited his camera bag on his desk before handing out drinks.

“Dark roast three sugars for you, hot chocolate extra whip for Pat, and a black tea for me,” he announced. Patton squealed and clapped with glee as he accepted it, and Logan merely let his posture relax in fondness, a warm feeling settling in his chest.

“Thoughtful of you,” Logan noted.

“You are the _best!”_ Patton cheered, making grabby hands. “Though that is a hot choco- _lotta_ water you’ve brought in, too! You sure you’re okay, kiddo?”

Logan’s mouth tightened at the pun. At least it was just the one.

Virgil shrugged. “I’m fine. Just a little, ah, _saturated.”_

Nevermind, everyone betrayed him eventually.

“Like a _cloud!_ Because your name is _Storm!”_ Patton bounced enthusiastically. “You are _so good at this!”_

“That’s the one, Pat.” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand and looked away, oddly unused to praise despite two years of knowing them. “I figured we could all use a midday pick-me-up. But the library. Gross? Is it the UL or are you talking about some other one? I got a feeling the UL has a mold problem down here.”

“No, not a campus library, _the_ Library, capital L. The club on Main Street, surely you’ve seen it?” Logan explained.

“Whoa, Logan, you’ve been to the Library?” Virgil asked. He sounded vaguely impressed. “It’s definitely trashy, not my scene, but I didn’t think you were one for the dancing and drinking.”

“No, I’m-- Look.” He tilted his laptop for Virgil to see, too, and Patton moved obligingly out of the way.

Virgil read it fast, dark eyes scanning the screen. He was heterochromatic, with one brown, one hazel. Contrary, like Virgil, thought Logan, and a little odd. But somehow they made sense on his face.

“Gross,” Virgil decided upon finishing. “Scared should just tell the truth. Sitting on something that long would drive anyone nuts. Maybe just text it to Best Friend, if Scared is, uh, scared of confrontation.”

“Over _text?”_ Patton gaped, frothy hot chocolate moustache on his lip. He took a second to lick it off, like a cartoon character. “That’s no way to do it! It has to be face-to-face. But _gently_ , maybe in a private place, with some nice tea and cookies and some tissues nearby. That’s how they should break the news.”

Virgil was skeptical. “I dunno, Popstar. If someone brought me to a room and was suddenly acting all nice to me, I’d freak out. Anxiety through the _roof._ Even if I wasn’t dating them, I’d be expecting an ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ conversation. Or, like, somebody’s dying. Or pregnant.”

“I had suggested a more casual approach,” Logan said. “Not that the approach should matter. As long as the truth is revealed, as we all seem to agree is the right thing to do, Best Friend should understand.”

“But what if he doesn't?” argued Virgil. “Then Scared would be losing their best friend and have to deal with their best friend accusing them of being a relationship wrecker or something. Text creates distance, distance is safe.”

“But isn’t the tone important?” said Patton. “Face-to-face, for sure!”

“It would be illogical for Best Friend to react negatively. Why are we assuming they’ll lash out?”

Virgil opened his mouth to defend his point, but then looked up and scrunched up his nose. That was all the warning Logan got before Virgil suddenly turned his face into his elbow and let out the tiniest sneeze Logan had ever heard.

A beat of silence.

 _“Awww,_ Virgil, you sneeze like a kitten!” Patton cooed. “Cute!”

“Bless you,” Logan said neutrally. Internally, he was hunched over on the ground, clutching his stomach and blushing redder than a tomato. That. That was adorable.

“Yeah, what… ever. I’m not cute,” Virgil sniffled.

 _Falsehood,_ thought Logan.

“Are you feeling ill? Perhaps running through the rain to deliver drinks was not the best course of action,” he said, trying not to look more worried than a good friend would be.

“Oh, kiddo, you’re still in those clothes!” Patton noticed with alarm. “And with the AC on in the building! Logan keeps a change in his desk, don’t you?”

“Yes, for all-night work emergencies,” he confirmed. “Would you like to…?”

Virgil curled in on himself. “I mean, I don’t want to be a bother--”

“You’re not bothering anyone,” Logan said firmly. 

He stood to open the drawers that weren’t really meant for personal effects and produced a plastic-bagged bundle. He threw in the hairbrush after a thought, and handed it all to Virgil, who was starting to shiver. “You can put your wet clothes in the bag,” he told him.

“Thanks, L,” Virgil said, then left for the bathroom.

Patton and Logan held their debate until Virgil’s return, sipping their hot drinks and quietly fretting. Logan had to put concentrated effort into not Googling the symptoms of hypothermia, because that would be ridiculous. It was only October. It didn’t matter that they were in the mountains and the altitude affected the temperature. WebMD would not help them.

… It wouldn’t. 

He was catastrophizing.

… Maybe just a quick check?

Virgil emerged from the bathroom, and suddenly Logan needed WebMD to explain why he found himself breathless.

Logan was. Tall. Logan was tall, he was very tall. Six foot two was tall. Virgil, five foot six, was not.

Thought about like that, it made sense that the long shirt sleeves would fall past Virgil’s wrists, that the loose sweatpants would pool beneath his bare feet. Virgil fixed his hair back as opposed to over his face, of course, because wet hair sticking to one’s face was uncomfortable. A couple stray strands escaped and brushed against his forehead because they were starting to dry, and Logan, no, don’t think about pushing them back into place, what is with you and your obsession with Virgil’s hair as of late.

“Drink your tea.” Patton’s voice snapped Logan back to the present. “It’ll warm you right up! Here, I wiped off your camera bag. Sit on the couch, no hard plastic chairs for you.”

“Pat, I need a computer to edit my photos,” Virgil insisted, but amusement colored his tone and he let himself be manhandled without much complaint.

“I’ll bring the university laptop to you,” Patton said decisively. “How did you even get caught in the rain?” He fluttered around, distressed and pulling pillows out of thin air to build what looked to be a nest around Virgil.

“No clue. Guess my horoscope for today was right,” Virgil smirked.

“Horoscope?” asked Logan.

Virgil just raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. For today? From the _Crier?_ ”

“Oh, yeah!” Patton giggled. “You’re a Sagittarius, right? _‘Something unexpected will try to slow you down, but you’ll charge through!’”_

 _“‘Think warm thoughts,’”_ quoted Virgil. “Whoever writes them has been spot-on lately.”

Patton smiled mysteriously, but Logan was still stuck. “Virgil, do you… believe in astrology?” 

Logan hadn’t taken Virgil for a superstitious type, more one for realistic concerns, but he supposed there were unknown depths to his dark friend. He hadn’t known Virgil liked Hanson before last week, either.

Patton lightly set the spare 2010 Dell on the cushion next to Virgil.

“Nah,” Virgil answered, “I just like to read ‘em. Sometimes, if they’re good, I’ll try to, like. Force myself? To believe they’ll come true?” 

He worried at the sleeves over his fingers-- _sweater paws,_ Patton would call them-- and hesitated. His gaze glued itself to his hands, the cup he held between them, the camera bag under his arm. Anywhere but Patton and Logan. 

“It’s like... My therapist from high school always talked about looking for the bright side of things. How optimists see signs and make connections that aren’t there, but that make them feel better anyway. This is kind of my... more deliberate, faker take on it.” Then he laughed. “It’s kinda dumb--”

“Not at all,” said Logan. He surprised himself with his haste, but it was true. Virgil wasn’t dumb.

Logan laced his fingers together. He chose his next words carefully. 

“Did you know,” he began, pulling from something he read maybe half a year ago for PSYC 101, “that in 2014, in a study by Harvard professor Kaptchuk, it was proven that if a person is told a pill they are taking is a placebo for headache relief, despite them knowing it is a placebo and the pill not actually any type of medicine, they will still experience positive effects?”

Virgil looked up.

Logan took this as a sign to continue. 

“It’s due to a complex neurobiological reaction. Simple belief, expectation, is enough to improve your health. This means that, despite your deliberation, your methods are in no way invalid. They aren’t ‘fake,’ and any benefit you may experience is just as real as any benefit experienced by someone with any other outlook. In short, uh…” he floundered for a suitable adage, “If it works, it works. And you’re smart for taking advantage of it.”

Virgil’s eyes shot back down, but he had a pleased flush about him. He took a sip of tea, then said around the lip of his cup, “Thanks, Teach. You’re, uh. You’re pretty smart yourself.”

Logan turned back to his desk. It wouldn’t do to blush. He was a professional. 

“You’re welcome, Virgil.”

Patton caught his eye. He leaned on his elbow against Logan’s desk and grinned the goofy grin that meant he was up to something.

 _You got it baaaaaaad,_ Patton mouthed, drumming his fingers along his face.

Logan drew a quick line across his mouth. _Zip it!_

Patton raised his hands, _okay, okay!_ and scooted himself back to his own workspace.

For a long while, the only sound in that room was the tapping of keyboards and the quiet enjoyment of warm drinks on rainy days.

Their earlier debate could end there. Logan had all he needed.

* * *

LOGIC’S LOWDOWN:

_Logic! Help me!_

_There’s this totally cute boy I met at the Library a week ago, and we really hit it off. Then, as Library boys do, he vanished into the night. Not that I minded, it was fun[...]._

_Anyway, my best friend wanted me and his boyfriend of a couple weeks to be a study group, since we’re all doing STAT together, just in different sections. I was like, cool, whatever, and we met up. And GUESS WHO IT WAS? Library boy! Do I tell my friend? They were together when Boyfriend and I hooked up, but I didn’t know! Will Best Friend hate me? Will Boyfriend kill me? Will I ever be able to party at the Library again? HELP, BABE!_

_Signed, Scared Sh*tless in the Shelves._

Dear Scared,

It’s perfectly reasonable to feel stressed or even panicked about the situation you’re in. However, it’s important you realize that you can’t let your friendship be risked by something like fear of the unknown. If your friend cares about you as much as you care about him, then he’ll recognize that this is not your fault. You must tell him the truth, in-person if possible, and maybe in a casual, comfortable environment. 

He may take it harshly, in which case, you should give him space, but let him know you’re there for him and possibly reiterate that you didn’t know it was his boyfriend and that you’re sorry anyway. If you allow this charade to continue, then a: you will create a wall between yourself and your friend, and b: he will continue to date someone willing to cheat on him, both of which will only hurt your friend twice over.

What we don’t know _can_ hurt us. Knowledge is an incomparably powerful, multi-purpose tool that is instrumental in identifying and solving any problem. If you’re worried about someone, be it yourself or another, getting hurt, then _seek knowledge_. It is our greatest weapon, and our greatest defense.

Be strong. And know that no matter what, there are people on your side.

Also, while the Library is a staple on the Applewood Mount campus, there are better clubs out there. With cleaner bathrooms.

Signed, Logic.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I'll write more if I there's interest, but I am still swamped with work, so it'll be slow. In the meantime, I can totally take questions! Thank you for reading!
> 
> Be good, be safe, I love you!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @sidersands.


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